


Silicone Dick Heuristics

by saltslimes



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and they are hurt, but he also has feelings, gavin Reed is a Libra, nines has big bitch energy in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltslimes/pseuds/saltslimes
Summary: Everyone in the office is pretty much under the impression that Gavin is just waiting to take a baseball bat to his android partner, so imagine their surprise when someone does exactly that and Gavin is horrified.





	Silicone Dick Heuristics

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a song by the same name, off the pleasure nexus album. If you listen to it you'll know what kind of headspace I enter when i write, which may be more of a curse than a blessing
> 
> i apologize for this not being porn.

Nines is a bastard. That’s not up for debate or anything, it’s a known fact. And he’s not just a bastard according to Gavin (although he very much is one according to Gavin) he’s pretty much a bastard all the time, to everyone. But to Gavin more than anyone else, because it winds him up. And Hank’s got to admit, it was pretty funny watching Gavin get stuck with the only android less inclined to follow orders than Connor.

It was  _ also _ funny to see an android with superhuman reflexes and dexterity “accidentally” spill coffee on his human partner. Lot of funny stuff going on in the bullpen lately. The events of the morning were… less than humorous. 

You get desensitized to seeing blood after one, maybe two years. Crime scenes just lose their horrific glamor and become a place that you do your job at. Blue blood is a little different, because it’s new. He hasn’t had years. And he’s mostly seen it (lately anyways) on occasions when Connor has done something particularly reckless. So when he pushes through the crowd of people around Gavin’s desk and sees the first spatters of blue, his heart clenches for a second. But no. Connor’s at home, he took the day with Sumo because his hand still isn’t reacting properly, and even if he wants to keep pretending to Hank like he can’t feel anything, he’s not actually stupid.

“I’m a detective, for crying out loud,” he wanted to say, but instead he patted him on the shoulder and said goodbye. Like a nice, well-adjusted person.

So the android battered to all hell and slumped in Gavin’s desk chair, despite the similarities in appearance, is Nines. White jacket. Blue eyes. Hank is going to say something when Fowler shouts across the bullpen for him, and he turns to leave.

He’s dead anyways. Gavin finally snapped. He makes his mind up to say something to him.

<><><>

Gavin wouldn’t say that he necessarily hates people but when a couple decides to walk hand and hand down the street yet still be so far apart from one another that it’s impossible to pass them, he thinks that he should have been a serial killer instead of a cop. He was clipped by a cyclist outside the coffee cart and fuck if he’s going to buy two coffees in one morning so he’s resigned himself to drinking the office sludge, and he’s pissed and he’s not even in yet.

Hasn’t even had to deal with Nines shit talking his… well, where to start. There hasn’t been an area off topic so far. Everything from the way he laces his shoes to his haircut to the car he drives. Nines is unrepentant in his obnoxiousness.

When he gets into the office the mood is… weird. Resigned? Quiet.

“Who died?” he calls out, knowing full well that’s a bad thing to ask when stepping into work if you work at a police station. All heads seem to turn to him. Like, all. And there are a few people standing around his desk.

“You owe me ten bucks,” he hears as he’s passing Jenkin’s and Gadhavi’s shared desk.

“He finally snapped huh?” someone else is saying. When he gets up to his desk the gawkers take off, hurrying towards their own workstations or the break room. Then he sees what they were all looking at. Nines is slumped in Gavin’s chair. He’s covered in blood.

“What the--fuck!” He drops down, unsure where is safe to touch. He ends up grabbing Nines by the jaw. He’s still human temp. That’s good. That’s got to be good. But his eyes stare straight ahead. It’s like he hasn’t even seen Gavin.

“Nines? Shit, what happened to you?” When he doesn’t get a response he turns back to look at the bullpen, people suddenly interested in their coffees or their case files. “How long has he been like this?” he calls. “Why didn’t any of you do anything?”

Nines jerks forward suddenly, like someone rebooted him. He grabs a fistful of Gavin’s shirt in a deathgrip. Then he spits blue blood into his face. Well, more like coughs it. Either way it’s fucking nasty. But Gavin scrambles to reach the tissues on his desk and wipes Nines’ mouth.

“What happened? You okay? Talk to me.”

“I don’t need your help, little man,” Nines says. He’s still holding on to the front of Gavin’s shirt. 

When he was ten, Gavin rescued a cat from under the overpass on his way home from the park. It was seriously the ugliest cat he’d ever seen, and it used to scratch him all to hell. It was like, prideful or something. It would let Gavin pet it, eventually, but only him. He could feel eyes on his back. No doubt Nines was aware of people looking at him. People who hadn’t cared enough to even lift a finger or ask if he was okay.

“What the fuck were you all doing?” he roars. Everyone looks back at their work. He turns his attention back to Nines. “Fuck, okay. Can you stand?”

“Yes,” Nines says, and then makes no obvious effort to do so.

“Okay. Uh. Okay, hang on.” Nines is like, not  _ significantly  _ taller than him. Taller than him, certainly. Gavin has to haul him in a fireman’s carry. He’s lighter than an actual human body and heavier than a table. “Eyes on your own fucking desk, Jenkins,” he spits as he passes by. He dumps Nines in the breakroom and the few people making coffee clear out immediately. They keep thirium on top of the fridge because Connor is, in general terms, a moron, so he grabs some of that down and offers it to Nines, who is straightening out his jacket as if it isn’t lightly doused in his own blood.

Gavin grabs a coffee while Nines is drinking the thirium, because fuck is he not taking on any more of today decaffeinated.

“I got into an altercation with a suspect.”

“And then what? You didn’t… ask anyone for help? Text me maybe?”

“I got back to the office. I think I have--sustained some damage to my--processors.” Nines sets down the bag of thirium and then flips Gavin off.

“What’s that for?”

“I just felt like it. And I feel otherwise very bad so,” he lifts the other hand and his other middle finger. Gavin gapes at him for a minute. Then he snorts. He drops into a chair across from Nines. And then he springs up again. There are tea towels by the sink, fresh ones, so he gets some warm water on one and comes over. Nines flinches away from him when he goes for his face, but he looks Gavin in the eyes.

“It’s okay,” Gavin says. Nines doesn’t flinch away a second time. In fact, he leans into Gavin’s touch while he’s wiping blood off him.

“Is your self-repair or whatever gonna take care of this?”

“Most of it. It’s taking longer… than I expected. Thirium was low for too long.”

“Okay. Okay. So we’ll grab some more of that, and then go home and you can sleep it off.”

“I don’t sleep, Gavin, androids have a mode of--”

“Okay, but if it’s my computer, I call it sleeping. So.” Gavin rubs gently and blue comes away from Nines’ jaw. He holds Gavin’s hand in place for a second. His fingers almost seem… shaky. Butterfly fingers. Like they’re disaligned with the rest of him, which is sturdy as ever, military-perfect posture, empty expression.

“Oh, fuck.” Gavin looks up and finds Hank in the doorway with an empty mug in hand. “I thought he was dead.”

“Nope. But really, great work everyone. Nice that my partner shows up smashed all to hell and no one even thinks to send me an email.” Gavin goes back to the sink to wet the towel again, and Hank hangs in the doorway, looking between Gavin and Nines with his obnoxious puzzle-solving expression.

“What?” Gavin says.

“I mean. Most people thought it was you.”

“Thought what was me?” Gavin shuts the tap off. When he looks back Nines is looking at him, expression still flat and empty, posture still perfect. Hank just gestures to him. Gavin feels a kind of--it’s almost like acid reflux at that. He really doesn’t like that.

“Yeah well. Take a note,” he says, crossing the room back over to Nines to finish cleaning off his face.

“Okay. Got it,” Hank says. Whatever he came into the break room to do, he doesn’t do it. Gavin grabs down another two bags of thririum and then helps Nines out of the office. In the bullpen Nines shrugs away from him and walks on his own, but outside he folds up into the cab like he was barely remaining standing. 

“Shit man. You could have asked for help.”

“I dislike our coworkers,” Nines says.

“I mean--you could have asked anyways. Or asked, uh, me.” He expects the next thing out of Nines’ mouth to be that he doesn’t like Gavin either. It’s not. Instead his LED spins red and he looks out the window and that empty expression cracks into fury. Gavin sits back, startled, and Nines clenches shaking hands in his lap. What he says is too quiet for Gavin to hear, so he asks him to repeat it. Nines looks back out the window, so Gavin scoots closer to him.

“Hey, what was that?”

“I was afraid,” Nines says, too loud, loud enough that it hurts Gavin’s ears.

“Fuck dammit,” he says, jerking back. Nines is looking at him with his mouth twisted, and his LED is spinning red-yellow-red. He wants to ask what he was afraid of. He didn’t think Nines could feel fear. But he doesn’t know how to put that into words, so instead he stays silent until they get to Gavin’s shitty apartment. He kicks takeout bags out of the way to clear a path to the couch, and Nines beelines over and sits down heavily. Then he sinks his face into his shaking hands and stays like that. Gavin tears open one of the bags of thirium and holds it out to him, but Nines ignores him.

“Hey, uh. Blood, for you,” he says. Nines doesn’t move. He sets the thirium on the coffee table and sits down beside him. “Hey, I don’t know if you--” Nines straightens up and then buries his face in Gavin’s shoulder. He grabs a handful of his shirt again, and this time, instead of sitting there dumbstruck, Gavin wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers. “I got you.” Nines keeps hanging on, so he says it again. And again and again, until they both start to believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> Ty to Woahmako who beta'd like half of this, the ending half however was me and my demon hands alone so I have to own up to the mistakes
> 
> come hang out on [twit](https://twitter.com/saltslimes) if ur nasty (and like, over 18)


End file.
